The Black Book of Pearl White
by AllenbysEyes
Summary: Historical/Human AU set in 1939. Once, Pearl White was a rising star in Hollywood. Now, her career destroyed by scandal, she offers her services to the Diamond Company, one of southern California's largest corporations. But Pearl isn't exactly looking for a new job...she's working to unravel a conspiracy of Nazis, corporate crooks and criminals trying to conquer California.
1. Chapter 1

**February 10, 1939**

Pearl couldn't help it. No matter where she went, no matter how bland she tried to appear, no matter how long it had been since her last movie, people recognized her.

 _The Girl With the Champagne Hair_

She'd seen that nickname, dreamed up by Darryl F. Zanuck in one of his more expansive moods, embossed on a thousand trailers and a million advertisements. And she'd seen that famous portrait of herself, looking coyly over her shoulder, her pink-orange hair (much longer in those days) dappling down her shoulder, a winsome twinkle in her bright blue eyes, her already long nose caricatured into a needle-like point, more times than she could count. And she had to imagine that other people had seen it as often, too.

When she went out, she did her best to be inconspicuous. She'd cut her hair short and usually wore it under a hat, so it was barely noticeable. She dressed drably and functionally most days, unless there was some reason to draw attention to herself. This morning, as she prepared for a quick cup of coffee, she wore a frumpy blue-and-white dress, her telltale hair hidden beneath a pillbox hat. Hoping that it made her look as plain and unappealing - as anonymous - as possible.

Which was a sacrifice in some ways, because she'd always liked wearing fancy dresses and flashy jewelry, enjoyed the flash of cameras and blur of reporters, sometimes even didn't mind attending an event on the arm of a leading man or director or producer (provided, of course, that they didn't try anything untoward, or display an affection that she couldn't return).

A sacrifice, but a necessary one.

Because nowadays, when people thought about Pearl White, they remembered the abrupt cancellation of her last picture, the whispers that she and the studio tried to keep quiet. And the one that nearly made it to print anyway.

 _DAMES OR DYKES?_

 _HOLLYWOOD STARLET IN LOVE NEST WITH LADY LOUNGE SINGER_

Even by the standards of Hollywood gossip columnists, the unadorned slur seemed especially cruel and malicious. It still seared Pearl's memory. Her jaw hit the floor when her agent Jack showed her the headline.

"Don't worry, Pearl," Jack tried to assure her between nervous puffs on his cigar. "Studio's shutting this paper down before it hits the press. They're gonna fucking fire the hack who printed this and make sure she never works again."

Pearl didn't care whether it was stopped. She found the headline mortifying. Because she knew, even if the story was squashed and buried and the papers pulped, the whispers would get around anyway. In the press. Among people in Hollywood. Among those in the Breen Office and Legion of Decency who kept their eyes and ears peeled for anything to turn their noses up at, anything vaguely indecent to block a picture or wreck someone's career.

And she hated it for another, more obvious reason.

Because it was true.

* * *

"Coffee and newspaper, please."

"Hey, aren't you...?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No, you look like an actress I saw in some movie awhile back. It was a Western or something..."

"Must have mistaken me for someone else."

"No, I don't forget a face. Hey Ernie, what was that Western we saw with Randolph Scott last year? The one with the cattle barons shooting each other?"

"Christ, that could be a million of 'em. Be more specific."

"Well, get out here. Doesn't this lady look like the dame from that movie. You know, the one with the pink hair."

"...Wow. Man Scott, you're right. Forget the face, that hair..."

"All right, you've got me. It's Pearl, Pearl White. Nice to meet."

"Man, it's not often we get a movie star in here."

"You're too kind. I'm not really a movie star anymore..."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll get another job. Gal like you they're not gonna keep on the bench for too long. Hey, would you mind giving an autograph? My kid will go nuts if he finds out I had an actress in here and didn't..."

"Maybe some other time. Kind of in a hurry today."

"Sure. Which paper do you read?"

"You wouldn't happen to have EPIC News, would you?"

"EPIC? Which one's that, the Hearst paper?"

"Never mind. Daily News, please."

"Comin' right up."

"Hey, uh, Miss White..."

"Pearl's fine."

"Pearl, wow. Me, on a first name basis with a movie star! Anyway, erm, what's Randolph Scott like?"

"He's a nice enough fella, I suppose. Really good on a horse."

"Yeah?"

"Much better than me, at least. Though that's not saying anything. I'm sure you heard about my finger..."

* * *

Pearl didn't mind the small talk overmuch. Two working stiffs like Scott and Ernie didn't keep their eyes too close to the scandal sheets, and weren't likely to bring the . It was a bit awkward - she never knew quite how to handle people who regarded her with such awe, but it was a nice reminder that she mattered.

She sipped her coffee in a booth, trying her best to remain incognito (since Ernie had to take off before he could ask her whether Brian Donlevy was as mean as he seemed), dribbling a little coffee on the front page of her paper and trying to smear it out with a napkin. She saw the usual dread stories about the world events crowding the margins: **CHAMBERLAIN PLEDGES PACT WITH FRANCE; MINORCA FALLS TO FRANCO: NATIONALIST OFFICIALS SEEKING ASYLUM IN FRANCE; HITLER AND CZECH GOVERNMENT FAIL TO REACH NEW AGREEMENT.**

And felt sick to her stomach, knowing she couldn't do anything about any of them.

Same old, awful world, Pearl thought sadly, stirring her coffee. Fascists are trying to kill everyone and no one in this country gives a damn. Because it could never happen here, even though there are millions of lost souls in this country who'd welcome a dictatorship. And many more who hate Jews and Negroes and Communist and anyone else who's different and would follow anyone who found a way to blame things on them.

Or, she thought, because it wasn't good business. Which is an excuse she'd heard, many times, about projects that expressed an opinion on world events being cancelled by studio.

Sure, there was the occasional shit heel who liked Hitler and Mussolini in Hollywood, but they were usually actors and screenwriters of dubious politics. She didn't give a shit what Ward Bond or Adolphe Menjou or Mary Pickford thought about anything, though she realized that many did. She was more irritated at the press barons and industrialists and politicians who still winked an eye at Hitler, even after Kristallnacht and Munich and Spain and everything else awful, and acted like people who got worked up about it were irrational, or fanatics, or that there was something wrong with being angry about the death of Western Civilization at the hands of jack-booted barbarians. That possessing a conscience was some kind of mental illness.

She'd heard all the arguments a million times, from a variety of people. Never convincing, and rarely in good faith.

After all, do you really want another war? Wasn't the last one with Germany awful enough? Why do you insist on demeaning or antagonizing them? And anyway, aren't the Communists worse?

But the cowards got to Pearl most of all. The producers who claimed that they hated the Nazis but wouldn't run a picture dimly, vaguely, even allegorically critical of the Fuhrer and his Italian sidekick for fear of losing oversees lucre or offending political. The ordinary people who didn't want any disruption in their daily lives, and so let awful things happen. And worst of all, the polite circles who couldn't stand fascism and hated what was happening Over There but found it more upsetting that someone might refer to Hitler as a buffoon or a clown, or when President Roosevelt called Nazi sympathizers Copperheads.

How does that help, they'd ask, not really wanting an answer. Won't that just make them angrier? And it might even alienate some other people who are on the fence.

Better for democracy to die than for people to get upset.

Though really, Pearl mused to herself, what had she done about it? Keep making money for being pretty while doing nothing? Sit here and pass judgment on others in her head? Maybe stopped talking to a costar or a stage hand who suggested that maybe Hitler was a little rough but Mussolini and Franco were more reasonable?

Pearl's mind swirled around for a moment, allowing her guilt and helplessness to consume her. And horrifying images flashed through her mind. Nightmares which seemed more credible every day.

She pictured Stukas dive-bombing helpless American towns and armies of enemy soldiers attacking.

She pictured Hitler and a chastened President Roosevelt negotiating the German occupation of America.

She pictured Dr. Goebbels shaking William Randolph Hearst's hand at San Simeon as they negotiated circulation rights in the New German World Empire.

She pictured Brownshirts marching down Sepulveda Boulevard, and her standing meekly aside, doing nothing (or worse, hiding) as they killed her friends and coworkers.

She pictured herself getting caught.

She felt the table shake and realized that she'd subconsciously clenched her hand into a fist and punched the table, splashing more coffee on the table. Frantically, she began dabbing it with her napkin, feeling her heart race with terror, hoping no one had noticed her little outburst.

Fortunately, there wasn't anybody else in the restaurant except Scott, who'd gone back in the kitchen.

Pearl took a few deep, heavy breaths and turned back to the paper. Beneath the spreading brown liquid, she saw another headline that seemed more .

LOCAL LAND DEVELOPER FOUND DEAD IN SAN GABRIEL VALLEY

FORMER CITY COUNCIL MEMBER HAD TIES TO DIAMOND COMPANY

Pearl skimmed the article, only passively interested at first. Politics in Los Angeles County were as corrupt as sin, and there was always some feud over land ownership or water rights or oil pipelines that went on with dizzying regularity. Business-related murders came and went with the passing of the seasons. Pearl wished she could be shocked or disgusted, but it couldn't faze her. Just another rotten thing she'd learned to live with.

Still, the connection to the Diamonds intrigued her. She knew they were one of, perhaps the only, company run by women in the United States, and would find them admirable if their politics weren't so abominable. She knew their leader, a stern, matriarchal spinster named Aurelia Diamond, had chaired the local chapter of the American Liberty League, the rich man's organization devoted to destroying the New Deal.

So she kept reading. And hit upon another nugget buried within.

"Mr. Schroeder, before resigning from the Diamond Company, had cited the organization's politics and business connections as a reason for their dispute. Additionally, he noted that the land was adjacent to property owned by William Dudley Pelley, leader of the so-called Silver Legion or Silver Shirts..."

Christ. Another fascist. And this one, right here in L.A.

And connected to one of California's biggest businesses.

Which didn't really shock Pearl. But the immediacy of the threat made her heart race, and her guilt compound with fear.

She knew Pelley slightly, back when she was just starting in the industry and he was still peddling screenplays to Tom Mix and Lon Chaney. Struck her as a pompous man with a weird little van dyke beard and a constantly harried, frazzled attitude, rushing from one moment in life to a next, chased by invisible enemies. Since then, by his own account, he'd died, gone to Heaven, and received instructions to rescue America from Jews and Communists by making himself into the American fuhrer. Funny how that works.

Most people considered Pelley a crank or a nutcase, and he probably was. But then, so was Hitler once upon a time. And since he had thousands of uniformed followers, many in California, Pearl felt laughing at him wasn't an option.

Especially if he had the Diamonds on his side.

It took a moment for her mind to connect the threads. But she tossed the newspaper aside and bent down over the table, trying to think. Trying to untangle everything. And trying to fight down her inevitable internal monologue.

Well, Pearl, you wanted a chance to fight fascists? You wanted to make a difference?

Well, maybe God and the Daily News have just handed it to you.

The question remained how? And Pearl didn't have any clue.

"Oh my goodness! Honey, it's Pearl White!"

Pearl snapped out of her thoughts and saw a young, starstruck couple beaming at her from the next table. She forced a smile, pushing her crowded thoughts to the back of her mind.

For now.


	2. Chapter 2

Pearl didn't trust the old adage that you couldn't judge a book by its cover. A book, maybe, since it's an inanimate object, a thing designed to entertain and move copy and possibly receive a film adaptation. It couldn't change its mind, couldn't dissemble, couldn't hide any secrets that aren't discovered by the final chapter. It couldn't lie, in other words. It couldn't betray you.

A person, though, was something different. Just by looking at their dress, their surroundings, their manner of speech, you could tell a great deal. Maybe it was the actress in Pearl talking; how easily her directors coded characters with elaborate dresses and spiffy suits and different colored outfits. How in one picture she'd be a heroine in virginal white, in another a temptress wearing a scarlet dress. But she found that it was a fairly reliable rule in real life, even if there were nuances that films didn't always capture. Even if you had to sort out dishonesty from truth using observation.

Fortunately, with Peridot Mulwray, what you saw is basically what you got. A blunt, opinionated woman who kept a messy office, with peeling striped wallpaper and a few perfunctory pictures, who dressed in mannish outfits and smoked constantly and liked putting her feet on the desk (yet her blonde hair always seemed immaculately spiked). Pearl didn't know whether she loved or despised her.

"Dear Christ, Pearl, you're like the eighth person asking me about this today," Peridot said, absently blowing smoke rings in the air. "Some corporate bigwig gets drilled just before a land deal goes through. You think you'd be the only one asking questions about this? Big deal. Same business as usual in L.A. County. Someone gets involved in grift, has a change of heart, then welches and gets killed. Probably some out-of-town hoods brought in special for the occasion.

"And you know what's gonna happen? Nothing. Zilch. Not a damn thing. Nobody's gonna go to jail for it. Nobody's gonna find out who did it. Might get a few headlines until some money changes hands and then even they dry up and find some broken-down starlet to cry over. And whatever awful grift was going on goes through anyway. The fat cats benefit and everyone else gets hosed. Story of L.A. Story of America."

Peridot leaned back and blew another puff of smoke into the air, letting it dangle overhead. Pearl watched her with some annoyance, trying to puzzle out the appropriate response. She wished that she didn't have to play head games with Peridot every time they spoke.

"You should write a book," Pearl said finally.

"You can't pay for my kinda wisdom," Peridot replied.

"Well, I didn't come here for your cheapjack cynicism," Pearl insisted. "Could get that from a bar stool anywhere. I came here because I want your help. And you know I wouldn't come to you, of all people, if I didn't need it."

"Yeah." Peridot said, in a blank tone carrying the weight of their history together. She finished her cigarette then leaned forward, rubbed out the butt in an ashtray and put on a pair of thick, awkward-looking spectacles.

"So what's your connection to this case?" Peridot asked, immediately slipping into Detective Mode. "You know Schroeder? Know the Diamonds? Have some stake in the land? Angry you won't be able to film another Western in San Gabriel? Tell me, because I'm curious. Sincerely."

It seemed more a challenge than a request. Pearl realized she needed to sell her acquaintance on the case quickly and succinctly.

"The Diamonds," she muttered. And Peridot's face immediately scrunched into a scowl.

"Yeah?"

"What do you know about them?"

Peridot thought about this for a moment, then shook her head. "Sweetheart, if it's Diamonds you're after, get 'em yourself. You couldn't pay me enough..."

"Oh, I wasn't planning to pay you at all," Pearl said.

Peridot's eyebrow arched. "How's that?"

"I wasn't planning to pay you," Pearl repeated, smirking sardonically. "I figured that you'd be intrigued enough about the case to take it pro bono."

"Have we met?" Peridot asked, acting deeply offended. "The only thing I like more than a good smoke is a nice fat buck in my pocket."

"I don't think so," Pearl responded, challenging her. "I remember you helped that girl who was being hounded by the Vice Squad..."

"That was different," Peridot snapped.

"Or that EPIC worker who had their house torched by the Klan..."

"They couldn't pay me. That was the difference then."

"Or those Okies who had their life's savings stolen by a crook with the WPA..."

"All right, all right, all right! But you're missing the thread here. Those were all people who couldn't pay, and who needed help. Maybe I have a heart somewhere inside here-" She dramatically tapped her chest, subconsciously licking her lips. Pearl smiled more broadly, knowing she'd struck a chord with Peridot, whether or not the little blonde admitted it.

"But you just come to me asking me to investigate a high-profile murder that has some bigwigs involved with no obvious connection to you...just because you're curious. Now, you see the difference?"

"I hoped the novelty of my request might intrigue you."

Peridot became stone-faced, not sure how much Pearl was pulling her leg. Pearl retained the same smile as before, challenging her acquaintance to make a decision.

"Besides," Pearl added, "it isn't just curiosity. You might say I have a personal interest."

She absently stroked her nose twice with one finger. Peridot didn't seem to notice.

"And if this is what it looks like, it could be something...much bigger than just land."

"I'm not good with 'bigger,'" Peridot grumbled, slipping back into her chair. "Gimme a routine surveillance of an unfaithful husband any day..."

She considered it for a moment, then stood and walked over to a cabinet. Muttered something under her breath, then opened the second drawer and pulled out a folder.

"The Diamond Company," she recited, "incorporated in 1912 by Eustace E.H. Diamond of Anaheim. Currently based up in Fullerton with about 60 full-time employees and numerous agents and operatives. Company nominally headed by Mr. Diamond's widow, Bianca Diamond, who is incapacitated and headed by her eldest daughter Aurelia. Sits on a board with her two sisters, River and Rose. She's a tough cookie, a pill. A bitch, in common parlance. Very politically involved. Very Republican in the Ham Fish, Du Pont way, not the Wendell Willkie way. Very big in L.A. and southern California. Knows everybody important, gives money to a lot of them for different things, even pretends some of them are friends when it suits her. Lives for her business and nothing else. Wants to prove that she's a bigger man than any man."

"I don't need the Freud," Pearl said. "Just tell me about them."

"The Freud's indispensable, sweetheart," Peridot insisted. "No other way you can discuss this. Talk about a messed-up family..."

"Misogyny isn't any more appealing coming from you than anyone else," Pearl snapped. "I'm up to my ears in people acting like the mere fact of women owning a company is queer..."

"Oh they're queer all right, but maybe not in the way you mean." And Peridot produced a self-satisfied smirk at her little pun. Pearl didn't dignify it with a response.

"Aurelia doesn't give you much humanity. No husband or squeeze of any kind, so far as I know. Was engaged when young to a boy who died in the Great War, which apparently shriveled her up. No sense of humor. Not even the ability to smile from my experience with her. Treats everyone like dirt beneath her feet, whether they're employees or fellow businessmen or politicians. Most imperious woman I've ever met. Probably deeply unhappy, but that's my amateur, not clinical opinion.

"Now River. I know she is deeply unhappy. She's been to a sanitarium outside the city a few times for, what they call melancholy. Tried to kill herself, I think. Definitely had shock therapy, I've seen the records...Oh, don't look so surprised. You know I know this stuff, that's why you're here, isn't it? That's why you asked me."

"Well yes, but...I don't expect you to delight in it," Pearl chastised.

"I don't delight, I report," Peridot snapped, rolling her eyes. Enough sentimentality.

"But yes. She lost her fiancee in a car wreck back in '32 and never stopped crying. I mean, she can barely keep it together so she's not in public much. Don't know if she cares about politics or business the way her sister does. Only met her once or twice and didn't get much out of her aside from a forced smile followed by a torrent of grief. Feel like Aurelia has to keep things together for everyone."

"You said there was a third one?"

"Oh, yeah," Peridot said. "Well, she's not as important."

"Well, tell me about her anyway," Pearl said impatiently.

"Rose," Peridot responded. "The baby of the bunch. Very cute little redhead. Used to be a socialite, went around town in a souped-up car like a spoiled brat. Still pretty young I think, at least compared to her sisters, and her position seems more symbolic or honorary than doing anything. She used to be very high-minded back in the day. She gave money to Upton Sinclair in 1934 and...well, word on the street is Aurelia chewed her out for it. Big time. Hasn't done or said anything political since. But she still finds ways to get attention..."

Peridot reached into her cabinet, beginning to pull out a folder. Then stopped herself.

"There are, um, some pretty explicit things I could show you..." she began, uneasily.

"I don't need to see it," Pearl assured her. Peridot sighed with relief and shut the door.

"Well, let's just say...she's not as chaste as her sisters. Her main squeeze is a hack screenwriter who's one of my sources. Don't know if he's ever actually sold a script, but he writes a lot of garbage and hangs around movie sets. But she's quite the pillow talker. And very, umm...If we're being clinical here, let's say sexually active. And doesn't seem to have a preference..."

"That's not what I came here for," Pearl cut her off.

"Well, okay. You want to know if the Diamonds are agents of Adolf Hitler and the Liberty League. Possibly, but if so they've done a pretty good job covering their tracks. It's not a crime, sadly, to have retrograde politics in this country, particularly if you're rich. Does that help? No. Didn't think so."

Peridot sat back down at her desk and clutched her hands together, all businesslike.

"So what do you want from me?"

"Do some legwork," Pearl said. "Investigate the murder. Find out what Mr. Schroeder knew and why they got rid of him. You know, your job."

"Okay," Peridot said, thinking on it. "Sure. But if I could ask, why don't you do it? I mean, it's not like you're wanting for free time these days..."

"Because I have a different part to play."

"Oh yeah?" This intrigued Peridot.

"Of course. You didn't think I would let you do all the work, did you?"

Pearl dropped her bombshell smile on Peridot, who shivered. It was still effective, whether on a poster or in person.

"Okay, now I am intrigued," Peridot admitted. And her right hand started to tremble for want of nicotine; she held it in place with the other.

"Well, I'm not really much of a detective," Pearl admitted. "But there are things I can do. Talk. Charm. Act. Whether or not you think I'm Myrna Loy, I can do all those things."

"Uh-huh. I'm not George Cukor, so spell it out for me."

"One thing the Diamonds like? Women. In more ways than one." And Pearl threw Peridot's little "queer" smirk from earlier back at her. "They like to show themselves as successful, right? I know that much about them. And that it's not a mistake to have women run a company. That's why most of their employees, or at least the high profile ones, are ladies like them. So I go to work for them."

Peridot's jaw practically hit the floor. "You? What on Earth are you gonna do for them?"

"Do you really think they're gonna say no if Pearl White walks into their headquarters and asks for a job?"

"Jesus Christ, somebody's self-confident."

"I try."

"So you get to do all the glamorous spy stuff from the inside while I'm out here doing all the hard work. Sounds fair."

"If you want to be cynical about it...I mean, think what they might do to me if I'm caught."

And Pearl let those words hang there for a long moment, as both of them soaked in the seriousness of their situation.

Finally, Peridot gave in and snatched another cigarette from her desk.

"All right, Pearl. You've sold me. I won't charge you anything...upfront. Maybe we can work something out later. Amazingly enough, I do like to be paid, especially for something that's likely to get me killed...But I suppose that money won't do me any good if I'm dead."

Pearl nodded. "Sounds fair. And hey, if we bust this thing wide open..."

"...We'll have lawyers and cops and corporate goons after us from here till Christmas. Dunno know about you, but I'm not looking forward to it."

Pearl did feel a stab of fear. She didn't look forward to it. But this struck her as too important to let human failings win.

"I'll take my chances," she said firmly.

Peridot, a little impressed, took a puff on her cigarette and smiled. "That's what I like to hear."

The mood felt a little too grim, just that moment. Then Peridot let out a little snicker, laughing at a private joke. Pearl felt a little awkward until Peridot decided to let her in on it.

"You know what they used to call me?" Peridot said. "Hell, for all I know it's what they still call me. The Dick Without a Dick."

She burst out laughing at her comment. Pearl didn't find it that funny, but forced a few polite chuckles.

"Because a woman detective was such a weird concept to them," Peridot continued, gesturing and waving her cigarette around. "They couldn't understand it! Couldn't conceptualize it! Might as well have told them I was a gem being from another Universe! So it took me awhile to get clients until they realized, well, a woman can be just as coarse and vulgar and dishonest as a man. And boy, did I prove that to 'em or what?"

She laughed at her joke again. Pearl just nodded.

"Of course, some people still don't think I'm a threat. Well, I might not have a dick, but!"

She reached into her desk and pulled out a Smith and Wesson revolver with an oversized barrel. It reminded Pearl of those old Buntline revolvers she'd seen in a prop department once.

"This will have to do."

Pearl's face went wide, then twisted in disdain. She hated guns, even if she'd had to use them in one or two of her movies.

"How on Earth do you even carry that thing around?"

"It's not my preferred weapon," Peridot admitted, laying the gun on the desk, pointing at Pearl. "A .38's usually fine. But this one's good when I really want to scare some people."

"It certainly scares me."

"Well, I imagine they won't let you into corporate headquarters with a rapier."

"More's the pity. All those months of fencing lessons gone to waste."

"Yeah." Peridot suddenly went glum. "Bad luck about your last picture."

"Yeah."

"You got a bum deal."

"Thanks."

"But people are shit. Cowardly, craven, money-grubbing coprophages. That's one thing I've learned from living in this city. Maybe they're shit everywhere, they certainly were in Chicago and Detroit, but...L.A. seems to bring out the worst in everybody."

"You aren't wrong."

Peridot stared at Pearl, less starstruck than a friend. And Pearl felt a little more comfortable.

"You worked with Fred Cavens, right?"

"I did! He's quite the taskmaster, but gave me all the lessons I'd need to wield a sword and carry a film..."

Pearl seemed both proud and sad at once, thinking of all the sweat and tears and cramps and hard work she'd put into a movie that would never see the light of day.

"He's the one who did Captain Blood, right?"

"Yep."

"Wow. To think, if the chips had fallen a little different, you could have been the lady Errol Flynn."

Pearl shook her head, the same confident smirk returning. She inclined her head in profile, posing for the camera.

"Thanks. But I'd have rather been Pearl White."

* * *

Peridot walked Pearl outside. Her office occupied a small office annex with a little central lobby. Late afternoon sun shone harshly through a large window overhead. A few people darted about inconspicuous.

"Well Pearl, I like your moxie. But be safe, all right? This is gonna be a big job and it might hurt both of us."

"Thanks. You too."

"You never know who you'll run into...Hey, speaking of which!"

Pearl turned and froze, spying a tall blonde woman in a brown overcoat walking past them.

"Jasper Jensen!" Peridot greeted her, seemingly unafraid. "Imagine seeing you way out here!"

"Peridot," Jasper growled without inflection. Pearl saw a deep scar under her left eye and flinched.

"Old acquaintance of mine from Chicago," Peridot said. "Still Jake Guzik's alibi?"

"Get lost, twerp."

"My office is here. What's your business here?"

"Need to use the john."

"Wow, you traveled 2,000 miles to take a piss. Must have a strong bladder."

"Fuck off." Jasper looked ready to punch Peridot. And Pearl figured that it would only take one punch to kill her.

"Keep an eye on this one, Pearl," Peridot said. "She's liable to break your heart before she breaks your neck."

Jasper grumbled something else and stalked down the hallway. Peridot looked after her.

"Well, that's not a good sign."

"What?"

"She's not somebody who's likely to travel all this way for nothing." Peridot clasped Pearl's hands and looked at her with an earnestness she rarely showed.

"Remember what I said. Be safe. Don't do anything stupid."

Pearl started to make a joke, a show of bravado. But she just nodded affirmatively.

"Knock 'em dead."

And the two broke apart, Peridot hurrying back to her office, leaving Pearl in the hall with the sunlight dappling over her.


	3. Chapter 3

February 6, 1939

Pearl felt a chill as she entered the Diamond Building.

Overhead on a wall, the Diamond logo, four small diamonds in white, yellow, pink and blue arranged to form a larger diamond. There was a huge portrait of E.E.H. Diamond on the wall, a bald, bespectacled corporate type with a mustache and a humorless face. On the opposite wall was a tall white-haired woman - Pearl guessed Bianca - beaming down with a benevolent, other worldly expression that sent shivers down her spine.

The interior was all back granite, except for the tile floor and some wood paneling near the reception desk. A small waiting area, empty this early in the day. A few people scuttling about with files and briefcases, not paying attention to Pearl, despite her wearing a pink-and-white dress which flattered her slim figure.

She approached the front desk, spotting a thin, blonde secretary dressed in canary yellow, her face pinched, sour and unwelcoming. The cold boredom of the seasoned professional. She was reading something, and didn't bother looking up to acknowledge Pearl.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, in a harsh nasal voice matching her appearance.

"Yes, um, well, not really." Pearl fumbled for a convincing lie. "I mean, I think I talked with you on the telephone the other day, about finding work here..."

"Name?" the other woman asked, bored and irritated. She still hadn't faced Pearl.

"Pearl White."

Pearl prepared for the usual shock of recognition. But the blonde remained unfazed, and unfriendly.

"Yes, you were calling about being an assistant to Miss Rose," she said, pulling a note card from a neat little stack beside her phone and examining it absently. "Well, she isn't in right today..."

"Oh phooey, I come all this way..." Pearl fussed.

"We can give you a call when she's back," the secretary said, with all the obvious insincerity that phrase conveyed.

Pearl felt like she'd been slapped across the face.

"Surely I could speak to someone," Pearl insisted, leaning forward eagerly. The secretary finally looked up and glared at her.

"Ma'am, we are very busy," the secretary protested. "I don't mean to be rude..."

"Well, you're doing a great job of it," Pearl blurted out, deciding a little sauciness couldn't hurt.

"I don't mean to be rude," the secretary repeated, visibly gritting her teeth, "but we can't just drop everything we're doing to accommodate you. Especially if the person you're asking to see isn't here."

"I'm not asking to see," Pearl insisted. "I was invited down here."

Not strictly true, but she wagered Blondie here wouldn't know that.

"Well ma'am, the fact remains..." the secretary began, blushing with barely restrained rage.

"Oh my stars," a quiet voice gasped.

Both Pearl and the secretary turned and saw a thin woman dressed in a blue polka dot dress standing a few feet away. Embarrassed, she turned towards the wall and covered her face.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt..."

Pearl smiled, taking advantage of the opportunity to break away from the secretary.

"It's all right," Pearl insisted. "You didn't interrupt anything important."

She shot the secretary a glare. The woman harrumphed and went back to her reading.

"What's wrong?"

The other woman hugged herself and shivered. Pearl saw that she had dark black bangs hanging down, practically over her eyes. Then she turned and looked at Pearl...

"It's just...You're Pearl White." She said quietly, in a squeaky, demure voice. And her face crinkled into a smile, which made Pearl follow suit.

"I love that movie you made with William Powell," she continued, slowly working herself into a flustered rhythm. "And that Western, even though I don't really like Westerns. You made it good. And, what was the name of that comedy you did? It had an alliterative name..."

"Penelope's Problems?" Pearl offered.

"Oh my stars, yes!" the woman squeaked, bouncing a foot into the air. Which startled Pearl, but made her feel a shiver of pride. "I'm sorry, I've seen that movie six or seven times, I'm just so...I can't believe I couldn't remember the title..."

"You are too kind," Pearl said, putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her. She shivered again, then smiled.

"It's so amazing to meet you," she squeaked. "Truly swell! Extraordinary! Wow, what an honor."

Then after a moment, broke into a thought, and tilted her head, fixing Pearl in an awkward, quizzical glance.

"But, um, what are you doing here?"

Pearl chuckled. "Oh, Rose Diamond told me to come in and meet with her, but your, um, friend was just telling me she's not available..."

"Oh, nuts," the other woman said. "I'm sure one of the Diamonds could see you." She grabbed Pearl by the wrist and pulled her back.

"Saffron, don't you realize who this is?" the little woman squeaked.

"No," the secretary honked, no longer paying attention.

"Obviously not," the woman fussed. "Oh, where are my manners? My name is Azul. Like, Spanish for Blue. So you can call Blue that if you want."

"But your given name is so pretty..." Pearl began.

But before she could say anything, Azul pulled her along, past Saffron and into the rear office. Pearl shot her another glare and a smirk, which grew even wider when she saw the secretary was reading an Ellery Queen novel.

* * *

"I can't say I've had the pleasure of seeing any of your pictures," River Diamond said, sitting back in a chair. She had a forced, businesslike smile on her face, with light blonde hair and wide, expansive blue eyes that looked sunken from fatigue.

"I don't go to the movies that often," she continued airily. "Not that there's anything wrong with a flick every once in awhile, but I prefer the theater all things considered. I suppose that's what you get

"I don't blame you," Pearl assured her. "Movies are a pretty low-down business."

"I can imagine," River said with a sad, knowing smile.

Even sitting there, Pearl could feel the sadness radiating off River. The room, filled with family pictures and mementos, seemed to weep. Pictures of children - the Diamonds as children? An adolescent girl, a young woman looking happy and carefree. A beautiful blue flower pressed into a picture frame. And on her desk, a photograph with River clutching the arm of a handsome young man.

"Now, unfortunately Rose isn't in today," River continued. "But...you said you talked to her?"

"Yes."

"About being her assistant?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I'm a little curious what attracted you to this position. Surely it's quite a drastic change from being a movie star."

Pearl sighed and looked down at the floor, hoping she could remember the story she'd dreamed up over the weekend and recited to herself a dozen times that morning.

"Well," she began, with a slight, hesitant quaver in her voice. "My career hasn't been working out, as you might have known. I haven't made a picture in eighteen months, because...Well, something happened with the studio. One of those bosses...well, he didn't think I behaved in a manner befitting a girl. Didn't...give him what he wanted, in other words. And so when he saw an opportunity to get rid of me, a false story that was gonna hit the tabloids, he latched onto it to trash my career. So I've been without real work for all that time."

River leaned forward, her chin in her hands, riveted by Pearl's story. Pearl felt a tinge of satisfaction, knowing that her performance had an appreciative audience.

Of course, it wasn't particularly hard - what she'd up til now was mostly true.

"What attracted me to this job?" Pearl stared at the ceiling for a moment, crossing her legs. Feigning innocence, like she hadn't really thought about the answer at all until just now. Her timing was impeccable.

"Well...I thought it was really neat that there's a company run by women. And I figured, well, I need a job, and I'm not sure about one that's really in my old line of work after...what happened. Besides, I know working for women, I won't run into those problems again."

She gave River a sad, heartbreaking little smile. The kind that, once upon a time, could reduce millions of moviegoers into a puddle of emotions.

"You poor girl," River muttered, mouth open in sympathy. "Of course, I suppose that's to be expected in the film business. Loose morals are the province of the...artistic types."

Pearl just nodded vigorously.

"Not that I care that much," she continued. "Until they decide to inflect their nastiness on the rest of the world. It's ungodly and horrifying what gets into movies sometimes. I suppose that's why my sister feels obligated to support the causes she supports...But that's not why we're here."

She fixed Pearl with a maternal gaze and a warm smile that seemed much more sincere (or better-practiced, at least) than before.

"I don't know if I can make the decision to hire you," she admitted. "That's my sister's prerogative. But you are the type we usually look for, so I can't imagine they'd have any strong objections..."

Pearl scrunched her legs together and shot her a schoolgirl smile.

"Thank you so much!" she cooed. "I really hope I won't let you down."

"You can drop the act, dear," River said mysteriously, still smiling.

Pearl felt a stab of terror, fearing that somehow, some way, she'd been figured out. But River didn't say anything else, instead standing and walking across her office, contemplating a photograph on the wall.

Pearl felt someone pulling on her sleeve. She turned and saw Azul, who gestured with her head to leave.

Pearl hurriedly obliged, leaving River alone with her thoughts. When she left the office, she let out a heavy sigh of relief.

If she'd known where Azul was taking her, she wouldn't have saved her breath."

* * *

"I'll be blunt with you, Miss White. I've seen your pictures and I thought they were terrible. Yes, even the one you did with William Powell and Myrna Loy. Dreadful, sentimental pap. Nothing personal, you aren't a poor actress by any means. You're very pretty and have a lot of raw talent. It's just that your selection of movies left a lot to be desired. Or maybe you can blame your agent? But since that's not why you're here, and you're not auditioning for a part, we can move on."

Pearl forced herself to nod along with Azuria's sentiment, not wanting to betray the fear and frustration she'd already seeded within her.

Her office was a complete contrast to her sister's. There seemed very little that was personal, just mementos of business meetings and corporate summits and political banquets. Given pride of place was a picture of Azuria shaking hands with Al Smith, once the liberal Governor of New York smeared by the Ku Klux Klan for being Catholic, now a born-again reactionary shrieking invective at FDR for being a "communist," at some Liberty League event. Always grim and humorless, as she was today, wearing a padded brown work suit, her dark-blonde hair in a severe updo, long earrings dangling from her head.

Also, she had a portrait of Calvin Coolidge on the wall. Fucking Coolidge, of all people. Not even Herbert Hoover, a miserable failure who at least hailed from California.

The Business of America Is Business.

Which, Pearl supposed, was better than Hitler.

"Now, you wanted to be Rose's assistant? Fine. Here's what that entails. She is a very irresponsible girl. She's twenty-eight and acts like she's half that age. She still goes out with her boyfriends and...other friends every night to do outrageous things. She never wants to do what she's actually here to do. I've practically despaired at doing anything with her. If it weren't for Mother..."

Azuria broke off her staccato, machine gun tone and sighed, putting her head in her hands and slowly massaging her temples, as if seized by a sudden headache. Pearl frankly felt more unnerved by this unexpected show of humanity than anything she'd seen before.

"Anyway...if you take this position, please understand what it entails. You will be responsible for Rose's actions. You are not only her assistant or her secretary, you are effectively her chaperone. Her guardian. Every time she does something unseemly and gets out of line, you will report it to me. If you think this seems harsh, well, it's because you haven't met Rose. I swear she has the mind of a child. I would have her...But that's immaterial. Do you understand this responsibility? Does that sound like something you'd want for your new career?"

Pearl saw Azuria shooting her a harsh, challenging glare, with hazel eyes mingling fury with despair.

"Y-yes," Pearl stammered, genuinely unnerved. "I think so. I would like to try, at least."

Azuria emitted a rumbling, mirthless laugh.

"You think so. Well, you have your work cut for you. Report to work first thing tomorrow. I'll make sure Rose is here to meet you. And then-" she let another viper smile curl across her lips - "She can begin training you."

Pearl stood up numbly and shook Azuria's hands. Stiffly, formally. Practically crushing.

She didn't have to act, this time. She was petrified.

She practically felt her way to the door, bowing her head in difference. She practically bumped into Azul, who'd been standing silently by the door.

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you," she apologized.

Pearl just nodded, her arm shaking.

"Well, I suppose I'll be seeing more of you," she said, directing Pearl back to the front of the office. "I'll try not to bother you too much with questions about your movies, but...My gosh, working with a movie star! I'm sorry, it will take me awhile..."

Pearl patted the girl on the head. "It's all right, Blue. Don't think of me that way, all right? Just think of me as a friend..."

Blue squeaked again and smiled, then composed herself and showed Pearl back into the lobby.

"You two done bumping gums or what?" Saffron groaned, watching them exit.

Pearl scowled, then turned back to her new friend and shook her hand.

"Blue, it's been a real pleasure to meet you. At least I know I'll have one friend here."

Blue just smiled. Pearl broke away from her and brushed past Saffron, who was scribbling something on a notepad.

"Agatha Christie's better," she remarked as she passed.

"Well!" Saffron muttered, bouncing her pen off the desk.

Pearl moved towards the door. She brushed past a tall, crew cut man in a gray coat who tipped his cap to her, then marched straight to the front desk.

Pearl watched him for a moment, noting that Saffron received him much more courteously than she had her. And Azul - Blue - stood by, hands clutched together, looking absolutely petrified.

Then, when he disappeared into the back, Pearl finally exited.

* * *

"It was that easy, huh? A little surprised, to be honest. But I suppose your being Rose Diamond's nanny is...a foot in the door."

"I just hope it leaves me time to do my work. Babysitting a nuisance doesn't seem like it'll let me snoop around much."

"Well, take what you can get."

"What have you uncovered?"

"Oh, I'm following the money. Talked to my source on the LAPD...Schroeder was last seen with a girl half his age at a bar outside El Monte. Mexican girl, I think. Name was Sanchez. Couldn't talk to her, the police are questioning her. Apparently she's being tight-lipped, for obvious reasons. Schroeder was married, you know."

"So, maybe there isn't anything more to this..."

"You sound disappointed."

"Peridot, I guess I thought...well, maybe I wanted to think...Maybe this is a mistake."

"Not saying that. Not saying that at all. Plus, you started moping before I had a chance to tell you what I'd really found out."

"Well, what were you waiting for?"

"Easy Pearl, give me a second to steady my lungs. Okay. I did a little digging, and Schroeder...he didn't leave just because he opposed the development deal. Maybe that's not news, but..."

"Well?"

"Schroeder had appeared at a meeting of the company's board of directors three weeks before the murder. According to a source - you'll forgive me for not identifying them over the telephone - Schroeder complained that Azuria was diverting company funds to her pet causes. Specifically, politics."

"That doesn't surprise me one bit."

"Me neither. He mentioned a large amount of cash went missing just before the gubernatorial election last fall, and suggested that the shareholders might find that information interesting."

"Huh."

"It gets better. I dug up an article in the Daily News right around Election Day about Colonel Thomas de Vries. Ex-Army officer, fired for talking trash about the President and, um, screaming about Jews and Commies, like they all do. Real wannabe Franco, this guy. He ran for Governor last year on the American Party ticket."

"Oh. Yes. Him."

"Well, one of the intrepid reporters at the News found that he received donations in excess of $50,000 from three major backers. Not that did him much good, Herr Colonel managed about 2,000 votes statewide. Works out to be about $25 per vote, which strikes me as a bum deal. But that's still a pretty interesting coincidence, is it not?"

"Do you have anything to connect them?"

"Not yet. I'm thinking that's where you might come in."

"Sounds like you're solving this all by yourself."

"So far. But you're just getting started. Besides, you have access to people and files and things I don't. And this is definitely something I wanna look at."

"Okay. Peridot, before we go...I'm thinking I'll move up near Fullerton."

"...That's not necessarily a bad idea."

"It will raise less suspicion. Might make me vulnerable to surveillance, but..."

"No, it's a good idea. Might keep the heat off of me, if nothing else."

"Glad you're keeping perspective on what's really important."

"I'm always looking out for Number One, sweetheart. You know that."

"All right. Well, we'll have to figure out a way to communicate that won't draw attention. The Diamonds seem like the types that keep tabs on their employees."

"Well, that means they might be listening right now, which means our whole conspiracy is blown."

"Holy Moses, you think so?"

"I hope to God not! Because let's face facts, Pearl, if it comes down to me and you..."

"Thanks, Peridot."

Pearl hung up, suddenly feeling apprehensive. She looked around her apartment and sighed, realizing that she wouldn't really miss this place and all the bad memories it held. But moving closer to the lion's den just put you closer to the lion...And she didn't yet know if she could trust anyone up there.

Well, Blue seemed nice. If a little flighty. But Saffron? Total boss's pet. Definitely needs minding. But if she's reading novels at work...

She went to her apartment window, preparing for bed. She spotted a flicker of light on the street, and saw a man in a gray suit lighting a cigarette and looking up towards her building.

She froze, panicking, hands clutching her own throat. Then watched, only slightly relieved, as he stepped forward to greet a lady friend dressed in a bright yellow outfit.

Pearl sighed and closed the curtains tight.


	4. Chapter 4

Peridot didn't usually go out on Monday night. But after a day digging through newspapers and court records (the most tedious part of her work), she needed the distraction.

The Scorpion nestled unobtrusively on the end of West Hollywood, a small rundown nightclub that wouldn't attract anyone who wasn't in the know, or else incredibly desperate for a drink. Its interior resembled a slightly anachronistic speakeasy, with wood paneling, billiards tables and small tables, a small performing area which consisted of a raised stage, a chair and a microphone. Only the artwork gave away the game: pictures of movie stars and singers, floral artwork and photographs, and over the bar, a large painting of a reclining female nude. A sign reading WOMEN WITHOUT MEN hung over the entrance.

Underneath reclined women in all sorts of dress: femmes and butches, some wearing sailors' outfits and quasi-military uniforms, others in tuxedos and suits, still more in traditionally feminine dress. Some, mostly newcomers and those hiding their identities, seemed faintly embarrassed, preferring to hide in the shadows and furtively hold hands in the corner. Others seemed relieved to be themselves in the rare climate that wouldn't judge them. And the bar owner, Bismuth, flitted about them in a suit and bow tie, serving drinks and food, making small talk and telling the stalest, worst jokes in the Universe.

Peridot didn't usually mingle with the crowd, except when she was really desperate for a lay. She liked to people watch, liked to drink and enjoyed the atmosphere. Sometimes they had a performer who didn't mind being seen in such a place.

And some nights, she came to collect information. But tonight she'd rather avoid that.

"Still on the grift, eh Peridot?"

She heard a nauseatingly familiar English voice, turned and saw a short woman in a blue schoolgirl dress, her dark hair done up in a bob. And the ghastly smile of a trickster.

"Aquamarine. Funny running into you."

"Why funny?"

"Didn't fancy you as gay," Peridot murmured, taking a sip of gin.

"What makes you think I am?"

Aquamarine looked genuinely confused, maybe even offended by the question, which nearly made Peridot spit her alcohol across the room.

"Look around you, dear," Peridot said. She managed to swallow, though some alcohol tapered onto her shirt.

"I'm here to drink," Aquamarine said, then leaned forward in confidence. "And maybe to scout a new story."

"You still writing for the Hearst papers?"

"Yep. Louella doesn't like it, but she can go hang. She can only get the high-toned nonsense about stars and starlets and so forth. She'd never set foot in a dive like this."

"I admire your commitment to your work."

"Well, it is perilous work," Aquamarine said, with a secrecy that irritated Peridot. "I'm on the scent of something big..."

Peridot hated people talking in code; if you wanted to keep a secret, better that you shut your fucking mouth.

"Anything you care to share?" she asked warily.

Aquamarine zipped her mouth and Peridot rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm working these days too," Peridot said. "Not tonight, though."

"You looking for someone to take home."

"Ha! Take a look around you. This crowd isn't really my kind of..."

She gestured at a skinny broad in a sailor's cap smooching a heavyset woman in a suit.

"I knew you had good taste," Aquamarine agreed. Then she looked disapprovingly at the drink in Peridot's hand. "Well, except...gin, really?"

Peridot shrugged. "It's all going the same place," she sighed before slugging down the glass.

She really didn't like Aquamarine, and would prefer to be socializing with just about anyone else. Al Capone or Bugsy Siegel might be nice, or Anna Marie Hahn, or even Hirohito himself. But she had no use for a hack gossip columnist talking in epigrams. Even if she was on to something world-blowing.

Unless, of course, it was a story that she'd find useful. But Peridot knew that she'd never expect help from Aquamarine, except by accident.

Or coercion.

There was a slight commotion in the bar. Peridot turned to see Bismuth mounting the performing area and grabbing the microphone.

"Ladies and ladies, how are you doing tonight?"

The women cheered and clapped and a few laughed obligingly at Bismuth's pathetic little joke. Bismuth smiled and fiddled with a bow tie then, then turned to the crowd.

"Well, we usually don't have performers here except on weekends, but I knew you wouldn't want to Bismuth tonight's performer. By day, an ordinary woman - or ordinary enough - by night, the world's most beautiful singer. Seriously, her voice is so sweet it makes angels cry, and you know that's a damn sight better than the acts we usually get here. Anyway, without any further ado or other bad jokes, give a big ol' Scorpion welcome to the one, the only Lapis Lazuli."

Peridot saw Aquamarine perk up, as if she recognized the name. It meant nothing to Peridot, and she leaned back against the bar.

A thin girl with an olive complex and jet black hair took the stage, wearing a sparking blue dress with a gemstone choker and black lace gloves. She had a small, guarded smile on her face but didn't make eye contact as she opened her guitar case and started tuning the strings.

Now Peridot took notice.

"Hey there, Scorpion," Lapis said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "It's been awhile since I've seen your shining faces."

"Try three months!" a woman drunkenly shouted, inspiring a ripple of awkward laughter from the crowd.

Lapis forced a chuckle. "Fair enough. You got my number, all right. But that's why I love you."

The crowd applauded for themselves, more than Lapis. Lapis waited for the applause to calm down, thoroughly in her element, then continued.

"Well, I'm gonna perform some of your old favorites later, but I wanted to start off with something new. Now, it's a bit more...let's say, downbeat, emotional, whatever...than what you're used to from me. Maybe I wanted a change. Maybe I just had something different to say than just, you know, have a fun time. Maybe some things are going on that I need to deal with. Whatever. I hope you'll forgive me for starting off with something...thoughtful."

"For that necklace I'll forgive you anything!" another heckler shouted. Lapis didn't dignify this belch with a response.

"She's really milking it, isn't she?" Aquamarine whispered into Peridot's ear. But Peridot was too busy admiring Lapis to notice, or care, her gossip.

There were a few mournful notes on the guitar as Lapis began strumming. Then she started into an airy melody:

It all became so lovely

Those bluest skies above me

Those funny feelings I had never felt

Before I met you

It only took those few lines to silence the crowd. Peridot felt her heart melt instantly. Bismuth hadn't been kidding; her voice was indescribable.

I thought I'd stay awhile

I tried to learn to learn to smile

So many colors

I had never even known

Peridot leaned forward, trying to stop herself from bursting into flame. She didn't usually have this reaction to musicians, however pretty or talented, but something about this one seemed different. There was something soulful, contemplative in her lyrics.

Maybe I'll find myself sitting on that distant shore

Maybe I'm not alone

You could hear a pin drop. Even Aquamarine seemed captivated by Lapis's song.

But Peridot snapped out of her trance, just long enough, to notice the pain creasing Lapis's face. The concentration as she struggled to belt out something deeply personal, something eating her up inside.

Then I see the colors fading

Gentleness of light escaping

Shadows of my fear invading

Have I seen this all before?

Peridot's heart went out to the kid instantly. She knew the type, the kind who had some problem she needed rescuing from. Or maybe she was just an incredible singer and Peridot was reading too much into it.

I know

There's something residing

A terror deep inside me

Her eyes bolted open, and she seemed to stare at Peridot.

I couldn't understand how you could be so bold

Peridot licked her lips with agitation. Felt her heart sink further down. And saw the plaintive look on Lapis's face, oozing warmth and agony and sincerity.

Damn, she was good.

Maybe I'll find myself smiling on that distant shore

Maybe I'm not alone

The bar was silent for a second before the audience broke out into raucous applause. Peridot leaped to her feet and joined in, staring directly at Lapis, who smiled modestly and sat back on the chair. She rested the guitar beside her, watching as two women in tuxedos, one with a saxophone, one with trumpet, joined her onstage.

Peridot watched her bask in what must be a familiar spectacle to her, fan adulation approaching worship. But she seemed almost oblivious to it, as if she was deeply wounded, lost in thought, contemplating all the meaning that song she'd sung dredged up in her.

"Thank you for bearing with me," Lapis said shyly. She took a deep breath, then her eyes bolted open.

And again, she seemed to stare directly at Peridot.

But this time, she seemed transformed. A carnal, hungry look had obliterated the sadness. A burning challenge to Peridot's womanhood.

She even bit her lips and smiled, sending a shiver down Peridot's spine.

Then Lapis clapped her hands, the brass duet burst into song, and she stood up and began a fiery up-tempo jazz number.

And Peridot was left to wonder all over again.

* * *

"Lapis Lazuli used to be a comer, as they say," Aquamarine informed Peridot after Lapis's set ended. "Performing the big lounges and nightclubs, got a record deal and even a possible movie contract. Everything a gal could want. She wasn't in places like this..."

"All right, I've let your fucking insults slide all night. If you're gonna talk about places like this like the shit you scrape off your shoe, why don't you fuck off back to your straight bars and joke about how weird and pathetic all the queers are to your friends."

"Oh, I'll do that anyway," Aquamarine affirmed with a malicious smile, making Peridot want to strangle her. "But I think you might want to hear the rest of my story." And Peridot noticed a teasing grin on her acquaintance's face. She'd clearly noticed Peridot's reaction to Lapis and rubbed it in her face.

"All right, whatever you need to get off your chest," Peridot grumbled.

"Well, before she started hanging out with the lavender crowd, she was a big deal among normal people," Aquamarine sneered, rubbing her hatred in Peridot's face. Peridot balled her hands into tight fists, wishing she'd brought her gun.

"Then something happened."

"I'm not buying your fucking paper to find out," Peridot snapped. "Just tell me."

"Well...I think it involves a friend of yours."

"Be more specific."

"Any friends of yours recently seen an end to their career?"

It took Peridot a moment to realize what she meant.

"You mean...?"

"Yep."

"She's the Girl in Blue?"

"You've got it."

"Then she's the one..."

"Yep."

"Pearl?"

Peridot felt a figurative slap in her face.

"Jesus..."

"Granted, I don't see the appeal of other women at all," Aquamarine teased, squeezing her legs together. "But I can see why someone like Lazuli might make an invert like your friend Pearl weak..."

Peridot ignored her blather, struggling to puzzle out her thoughts. She wondered...

My God.

It wasn't hard at all to see why Pearl would...like someone like her. Aquamarine was right about that, at least. But now she started trying to make sense of what it might meant.

The change in Lapis's countenance, from wounded innocent to sultry seductress, was...amazing. Like flipping a light switch from Good to Bad.

And it made her wonder if there was more to Pearl's story than she knew...She definitely needed to find out.

"...Anyway, it's nice to know that you all have the same...weaknesses here. Makes it easier to understand."

Peridot turned and shot Aquamarine a deadpan look. Then she spotted Bismuth at another table, chatting up a guest.

"Excuse me," she muttered, breaking away from the bar and walking over to Bismuth.

"Hey, Peridot, you're looking...um, stainy tonight?" Bismuth said, eyeing up the gin on her shirt. "Everything going okay?"

"Just fine," Peridot said.

"Like our performer tonight?" Bismuth said suggestively.

"She was certainly...something," Peridot allowed.

"Now, I'm pretty sure she came here with someone, but that doesn't mean..."

Peridot smirked and shook her head.

"I'll investigate that one on my own time," she said with forced professionalism. "Listen Biz, you know there's one thing I don't like it's a certain crowd here..."

And she gestured at Aquamarine, who sat at the bar obliviously, studied the guests with amused contempt.

"Short stuff giving you trouble?" Bismuth asked.

"She's saying things that are...Well, if she said them to you you'd fucking flatten her into a pancake."

Bismuth nodded and put a hand on Peridot's shoulder.

"I'll take care of it," she said quietly, and walked slowly over to the bar.

Peridot prepared herself for the spectacle of watching her vile Limey friend forcibly evicted from the bar, and possibly roughed up. She could use the laugh. But she noticed a flash of blue from the corner of her eye, and turned her head, and saw...

Lapis Lazuli.

Yes, she was still here. And she was chatting with two women at a far table, and laughing.

If Peridot had been thinking, she probably would have let her go and catch up on another occasion.

But Peridot wasn't thinking. Her legs seemed to move on their own.

Before she knew it, she drifted across the bar and approached Lapis just as she broke away from the table.

"Oh! Uh, hi!" Lapis recognized Peridot, and instantly became flustered.

"Do I look that bad?" Peridot asked. "I could change my shirt..."

"I, um...it's Peridot, right?"

"You know me?"

"Of course!" Lapis said with a smile. "Everyone in LA knows the Dick Without a Dick."

Peridot grimaced, not happy to hear the nickname.

"So...what was that smile in aid of?"

"It wasn't for you," Lapis said tartly. "It's part of my act."

This confused the hell out of Peridot.

"If you have a pick-up line, you'd better spring it fast," Lapis said, leaning against the wall. "I don't have all night."

Peridot's eyes searched the singer up and down. She felt sweat on the back of her neck, felt her legs trembling. Like she was a fucking kid again.

"Umm...I like those gloves."

Lapis raised an eyebrow. "Gloves? Seriously?"

"I don't see many singers using lace gloves," Peridot said. "They're such an...interesting accouterment."

"They're kind of my trademark," Lapis admitted with a shrug. "Makes me look like a two-dollar whore I guess, but...sometimes I feel that way."

"I kinda guessed from your song," Peridot said.

"Yeah." Pause.

Peridot wondered whether to bring up Pearl. But she didn't want to scare Lapis away. Now she was too intrigued to do that.

"So I take it from your introduction you don't sing full-time any more?"

"Sadly, no. A gal has to support herself...And that's not always easy out here."

Peridot scanned her memories of bawdy houses and vice raids to see if Lapis rang to bell. Thankfully, she seemed to check out.

"And what is your necklace, there?"

Lapis held it up - a choker with a blue gem with golden flecks.

"It's, um, a Lapis Lazuli. Like me."

"Wow."

"You like it?"

"It's a little weird. I mean, I don't wear a Peridot everywhere I go..."

"Why would you? Those are gross."

"Green is my color."

"The color of snot."

"The color of leaves."

Peridot still wasn't sure if this was banter or awkwardness. How much she enjoyed it, and how much she wanted to shrivel into her shirt and die. And she wasn't sure, just yet, how far to push things. What questions to ask. And how to ask them.

There were three ways she typically got information from someone. One, the Human Way, was to ask them. Sometimes they surprised you and bore their soul, told the truth. But Lapis didn't seem like that type.

The second, the Detective Wway, was to investigate them. Which seemed like a reasonable option at this point. But if Lapis knew who Peridot was, that would probably be easier said than done.

The third, what Peridot called the Other Way, was to fuck them. Or try and engage them in a serious relationship, maybe, if it could last long enough to get useful information. But Peridot didn't have the patience for courting that night.

She wanted to find out Lapis's story. And she wanted Lapis in her bed. And maybe she could find a way to make both those things happen.

There was a slight commotion across the bar. Peridot turned and saw Bismuth grabbing a squawking, kicking Aquamarine, spitting protests and profanities, and ejecting her bodily out the back door, to the cheers of some of her patrons. Peridot allowed a smile to creep across her face before turning back to Lapis.

"So...why don't you tell me your story?" she said, in as smooth a voice as she could muster under the circumstances.

Lapis looked at her with uncertainty, her eyes betraying the thoughts raging through her head. Then a smile settled on her face, and she grabbed Peridot's wrist. And Peridot instantly seized up.

"Maybe somewhere more private."

* * *

So many thoughts raced through Peridot's head, so many questions and lusts and fantasies, as they bolted out the door that she barely noticed the burly woman grabbing her and thrusting her against the wall, until her back hit bricks at full force.

Once she regained her senses, she shook her head, focused her eyes and saw Jasper hulking over, eyes filled with contempt. And suddenly the seriousness of her predicament washed over her.

"Jasper. What a profoundly unpleasant surprise."

"Can it, you pathetic little crumb," Jasper growled. "I didn't come all this way for you to harass my woman."

"Yeah, we've been over this. You came all this way to take a leak. Have you gone yet?"

This crack met with an elbow to her face. Peridot tasted blood and sank back against the wall.

"This is your only warning, runt," Jasper said. "Leave me alone. And leave Lapis alone. The less you try and figure things out, the less pain you'll be in."

"Why do you think...?" Peridot asked, only to meet another smack across the face.

"Don't try your luck, runt."

Jasper straightened out her coat and she walked away.

Peridot remained slumped against the wall, wiping blood off her nose. Even though her ears were ringing, she could dimly hear two voices:

"I didn't want you to hurt her, Jasper, just scare her a bit."

"People scare better when they're hurting."

"Yeah, but that was a bit rough to just..."

"Look Lapis, I know that bitch from back Chicago. When she's on to something, rough is the only way to get her off it."

"But what is she on to?"

"I told you, if we're gonna do this, you can't ask me questions like that."

"I don't see why..." And their voices slowly faded.

Peridot staggered to her feet, taking a few breaths to try and steady herself. Her body felt fine, except for her face. She worried that her nose might be busted.

Even so, she managed to smile through the pain. Because Jasper had so obviously misjudged her. Because she'd obviously learned nothing about her over the course of their acquaintance.

Because punching her in the face for getting fresh was only gonna make her more determined.

Because things getting rough made Peridot Mulwray.

Not to worry, Peridot told herself, straightening out her shirt and tie with pride. She'll have ample opportunity to find out, soon enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Anyone could easily tell that Rose Diamond was younger than her sisters. She had a fresh, eager face with a slight, babyish pout, a wild mop of light red hair that she struggled to keep tidy, a small pointed chin and tiny nose, and warm, searching brown eyes. She was practically a little girl next to her sisters, stern and depressed as they were, with the same unsubtle, changeable emotions: the slightest flicker expression rendered her face utterly changed, the slightest alteration to her routine. There was no subtlety, no half-measures in anything she did, which was appealing and annoying in equal measure.

Pearl couldn't help it. She had developed a crush on Rose the moment they first met.

She found, as long as she'd known she liked girls, that she didn't really have a type; any kind of woman could, potentially, appeal to her. Not that she'd had to choose, much. In Hollywood, sex of all kinds was plentiful; it was the city's main pastime, virtually its raison d'etre. Pearl's only complaint was the indiscretion of so many of her paramours, who would brag about bedding a star - a brag which might well make it into the gossip columns, despite the best efforts of Pearl and her agents and the studio. Under the strictures of the Hays Code, Hollywood pretended women like Pearl didn't exist at all, and wasn't about to rudely awaken the public to the contrary.

Still, it took someone special to make Pearl feel anything. And when she usually did, the experience just left her hurting. Because while a one-time liaison could be kept discreet, a serious relationship proved almost impossible to conceal. If the press sees you out in public with the same girl too many times, they will ask questions. They will follow you. And they don't give a damn about your image, just about the story...

So she wasn't surprised that she found Rose, a pretty young woman with an inviting smile, attractive. But she found that her flightiness and insecurity, which might have annoyed her, proved endearing as well.

"Pearl White! The Girl With Champagne Hair! Oh my God, I can't believe that I have a movie star as my assistant!"

Rose's face lit up like the most obnoxious, starstruck autograph seeker. Usually Pearl humored these reactions with a polite smile, but this time she felt...different.

"What brings you to our miserable little slice of hell?" Rose asked. And Pearl felt the change in tone like a slap to a face.

"Umm..."

Rose chuckled, crossing her legs and leaning back. "Oh, I'm sure you think working for a company run by woman is progressive and glamorous and exciting! But it's really not. It's a miserable little slice of hell-" She repeated that phrase - "just like all companies everywhere. Or so I imagine."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pearl said, still smiling despite herself.

"Well, you're here now and I don't want to scare you off," Rose said, her smile curdled into compassionate sadness. She leaned across the desk and clasped Pearl's hands, making her blush.

"I've never had an assistant before," she continued, practically beaming. "I'm sure you'll be a big help around here. Maybe now I have someone to handle all the dull corporate stuff Azuria and River pile on my desk."

This comment poked through Pearl's romantic haze. She felt a stab of resentment.

Of course Rose expected her to do all the work. She was the assistant, after all, and that's how businesses worked. Wasn't it?

Meanwhile, Rose did...what?

Well, she remembered what Azuria had told her. That Rose was there mostly because their mother wanted it. Not because she had any interest in the company or working or...anything but fun.

Well...it will be an experience, anyway, Pearl assured itself. And it will be worthwhile once I find what I'm looking for.

Everything in good time.

"Whatever you need me to do," Pearl said, smiling through gritted teeth.

Rose smiled and clasped her hand together. She blinked coquettishly before staring into Pearl's eyes.

"Pearl White, you and me are gonna get along just fine."

And her silken-voiced sincerity, her welcoming gaze, smothered Pearl's reservations. For the moment.

* * *

If the rest of the week offered a preview of coming attractions, Pearl could probably handle it.

True, it was rather dull. She spent most of the day handling paperwork that Saffron or Blue sent to. Rose, inevitably, would roll her eyes and sigh and collapse into a heap, horrified at the prospect of applying herself to something. Pearl unhesitatingly dived into the work, even though she mostly dealt with expense reports and minutes of meetings and...things that weren't in the least important or interesting.

Which made Pearl a little sad. Because, however shallow and silly Rose seemed, maybe she could flourish if they trusted her, gave her a little confidence and responsibility. Treated her like an adult, rather than indulged her like a child.

And she stood in on a meeting between Rose and her sisters, where Azuria gave a droning speech about investors in their properties across the Sacramento Valley. Pearl stood off to one side, watching the meeting unfold with monotony. Watching River sit there politely, listening to her sister without emotion. And watching Saffron beaming with pride at her boss from the sideline. And Blue, silent and lurking as always.

And her own boss, Rose, sitting there bored, chin in her hands, staring into space.

"SIT UP STRAIGHT!" Azuria barked, like a teacher lecturing an errant pupil.

Rose sat straight up, deeply embarrassed. Pearl's eyes flickered over to Azuria, her face full of rage mingled with disappointment, and Rose, looking deeply wounded, on the verge of tears. And she felt deeply embarrassed and shamed just to be present.

But all of that wasn't her concern, not really. She could sympathize with Rose, maybe even fall in love with her (stars, could you imagine?). But she wasn't there to make Rose Diamond's life better.

She found, to her surprise, that she enjoyed the work. Even if it involved just sorting papers and filing them away. It felt so much more fulfilling and meaningful than standing in front of a camera and pretending to be someone else. (Better to pretend to be someone else in an office, she supposed.)

Besides, it would all be worthwhile once everything shook out. Once she found what she was looking for.

* * *

"...And then Debra tells me, Saffron, you're gonna get yourself kicked out of the operator biz with that attitude. And I says to her, that's the idea, lame brain! You think I want to be answering phones for morons all my life? And her mouth dropped to the floor! And then I turn and see Mrs. Strong, with this abominable bulldog look on her face..."

Blue leaned back in her chair and giggled with delight, more of a high-pitched squeal than a laugh. Pearl saw someone from the next table over staring and blushed. Saffron smiled in pride and delight at Blue's reaction, twirling her necklace as she watched.

"Anyway...needless to say, I was fired that very afternoon." She tapped her finger on the table for emphasis.

"Bum deal," Blue said. "But if you hadn't been fired from there, you couldn't work with us."

"Very perceptive of you." And Pearl noticed Saffron placing her hand on Blue's, under the table. And made a quick mental note.

Pearl sat more or less silently, nibbling on her food and watching her coworkers interact. She hadn't exactly been...enthusiastic about joining them, but it had been awhile since she'd been to a restaurant this nice. Besides, it helped to build a rapport with people she'd spent most of her week with.

And people who might have useful information.

Saffron wasn't too difficult to size up. Tonight she wore an emerald green outfit which contrasted nicely with her blonde hair, complemented further with a gaudy gold necklace and bracelets. Much more stylish and attractive than her usual frumpy dress, but still with a hint of tackiness. (Pearl wore a modest pink-and-white outfit, her favorite, even though she associated it most strongly with a studio-mandated date she'd had with Gary Cooper, who she'd found to be a hopeless, rock-headed bore.)

If Saffron was officious and snooty in the office, after-hours she became the big-mouthed, energetic gossip who couldn't keep a secret. Not mean, exactly, just very...abrasive. And inflated. Always placing herself at the top of the food chain. Always making herself look good. Always wanting to show off what she knew, what power she had she access to, what people she met.

Exactly the sort who Pearl could drag information from without much difficulty.

"So Pearl, I'm sure you have plenty of Hollywood stories," Saffron asked, looking at her expectantly. "Like, what's the skinny on the stars you worked with? Surely you have some fun stories about William Powell and Myrna Loy, at least."

"Ooh, I love them!" Blue squeaked.

Pearl rolled her eyes. She grew tired of recounting Hollywood gossip; she liked to show her technical knowledge, how she achieved a performance, how she learned to ride a horse or sword fight. The little insight she could provide into direction or writing, or the inner workings of a film studio.

But nobody asked her that. Just what all the other stars were like.

"Well," she said politely, "Bill Powell is just one of those...He's a sweet guy. Very personable, very gentlemanly. Warm sense of humor. He's exactly what you expect."

"Well, I'm glad he's not a phony," Saffron offered.

"Myrna Loy...stars, what can you say about her?" And Pearl's eyes went wide with admiration. "I really admire a woman like that...she spent years trying to break into the business and didn't take no for an answer. Worked as a model and a dancer and took bit parts on a lot of crappy pictures no one went to see. And she kept at it until she struck gold. She has real gumption and drive and smarts and she's just...well, she's the kind of woman that some people call a bitch, and others really admire and respect."

"I'm guessing you fall in the latter category," Saffron teased.

"You're darn right I do!" Pearl said, a little defensively. "It's not easy to keep a career in Hollywood...not easy at all." And she looked down sheepishly at her feet, ignoring the waiter as he refreshed everyone's wine.

"Ever work with Marlene Dietrich?" Saffron asked. "She's my favorite."

"Work with her?" Pearl smiled mysteriously as she savored the memory. "In a manner of speaking. Not on a picture though."

"Well...I'm sure you have a story to tell there," Saffron said bawdily, slapping her shoulder with a familiarity Pearl didn't appreciate. "But you can dish about it some other time, huh?"

Pearl just nodded.

"We're so glad to have you," Saffron added, raising her glass. "To Pearl White, the Girl With Champagne Hair."

"To Pearl!" Blue followed suit.

"Dear Lord," Pearl said, burying her face in her hands. But she couldn't help smiling appreciatively at their attention.

* * *

Blue was harder to figure out. She seemed a little more voluble away from work, a little more conversant. She dressed in a beautiful dark blue smoking dress which seemed completely at odds with her demure personality.

But there was something about her...Pearl felt like she wasn't penetrating the whole way through. That she was guarding a secret. And whenever she seemed ready to let something slip, Saffron would block her.

"So, what's your story, Blue?" she asked as they ate their deserts. "I mean, I know you're the world's biggest movie fan, but besides that..."

Saffron eyed Blue, as if signalling her not to say anything. Blue looked down and sighed.

"There's no story," she said, hiding her eyes behind her bangs. "I'm from San Francisco and my family moved out here a few years ago. Needed to find a job, so I took it."

The table went silent. Pearl sensed she'd touched on a forbidden subject.

"Well...I'm sorry to bring the room down."

Blue smiled. "It's all right," she reassured Pearl. "Everybody wants to know. It's just...I'm not that complicated. Sorry to disappoint you."

Though her tone suggested otherwise.

Pearl decided to drop it. Maybe another time.

"This meringue is divine," Saffron enthused, tasting a scoop of her dessert. "Those chestnuts give it an extra something special."

"And this spiced pear...delectable," Blue burbled through a mouthful of fruit.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, dear," Saffron lectured, reaching across the table to wipe Blue's chin. "Gosh,

"Sorry," she said helplessly.

"Anyway, we don't always splurge for dessert, but this is a special occasion," Saffron said to Pearl.

"Yes, well, I suppose it's not every day you get...a new coworker," Pearl shrugged. She'd ordered a butterscotch pastry but hadn't really touched it.

"Well, you'll need it working for Rose," Saffron said. "She's a handful."

"Really? She seems sweet to me."

Saffron's smile curdled into a sour, mocking smirk.

"Operative word being seems. Hon, just wait until she tries to drag you along on one of her social outings. Then you'll see how, erm, sweet she can be."

Pearl already had some idea, and had already grown sick of Saffron's suggestive, condescending tone. But she let both pass.

"Oh stars, look who it is," Saffron whispered.

Pearl turned her head and saw him. The crew-cut man from the office, dressed in a dapper suit with a pretty brunette on his arm.

"Who is that?"

"Colonel De Vries." Saffron practically hissed his name.

Pearl flushed her memory for that name. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"You'll be seeing a lot of him," Saffron warned darkly. "If you don't want a political harangue every now and then..."

Blue blushed and looked away uncomfortably, shifting in her seat.

Pearl remembered her recent conversation with Peridot, and suddenly remembered.

"Oh...yes. He was the one who ran for Governor, right?"

"That's what he claims," Saffron snorted. "I think he just pocketed the money to build the National Institute of Anti-Semitism, or I dunno, to form his own private army..."

Pearl felt a chill down her spine.

"Could we not talk politics?" Blue piped up anxiously. "I mean, it's bad enough that gets dragged into work with us..."

"Sure," Saffron said, reaching over to comfort her. "I'm sorry. It's just..." And she gestured to the Colonel, barking his order to a waiter.

"Hmm." Pearl watched Blue sink further into her seat. She sensed the air draining out of the room.

She smiled, then pushed her pastry into the middle of the table.

"I think I've had enough to eat," Pearl said. And Blue turned to her, smiling with gratitude. Saffron nodded.

* * *

Pearl went back to the office after dinner, on the excuse that she'd left something there. Saffron invited Pearl to her apartment for drinks, but Pearl didn't drink much, and in an case wasn't in the mood to hear Saffron's honking nasal voice suffused with alcohol just yet.

"Already addicted to work, huh?" Saffron asked. "Well, you'll fit in just fine with the Diamonds. See you on Monday, Pearl. Me and Blue need to go home."

"Thanks for dinner," Pearl said.

"My pleasure."

"Good night, Blue," Pearl said.

"Good night, Pearl," the shy secretary added.

Pearl watched the two of them walk off together, with Saffron gabbing away and putting an arm around her quiet friend's shoulder. Then Pearl fumbled for her key and went inside.

She walked into the lobby, even more forbidding in the darkness.

Her mission was simple: something that could, probably should wait until Monday. Investigate a document she'd seen earlier in the day, made a mental note of, and placed in Rose's desk. A file pertaining to the San Gabriel account. The first time all week that she'd seen anything which truly piqued her interest.

She made it halfway to Rose's office when she realized she wasn't alone. She froze as the sound of whispers emanated from another room.

She pressed herself against a wall, noticing a dim light somewhere down the hall. She edged along the wall, her heart pounding with anxiety.

"...I'm telling you they're going to write it off as one of those things that happens out here."

A male voice Pearl didn't recognize.

"Can you be sure of that?" This was definitely Azuria. "It's all well and good to be cynical, but sometimes those things attract attention. Which we absolutely don't want right now."

"I don't think you need to worry about attention. This was done very discreetly, with someone from out of town who knew what they were doing..."

"Out of town. Murder, Inc. people, I suppose."

"Burned through my credit with them. No, this is an old acquaintance from Chicago."

Pearl remembered the hulking woman she and Peridot had encountered earlier, and shuddered.

"Well Mr. Snyder, I appreciate your, umm, discretion. But the fact remains that one of my highest-ranking executives died. And that's not just going to go away."

"Well, you didn't give me much choice..."

"I just wanted him scared off the project..."

"Well, let's just say now he's scared stiff..."

Pearl felt a lead weight in her gullet. She couldn't decide whether to stay and listen to their scheme unravel, or to get out of Dodge before it was too late.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump.

She turned and saw River's sad face, staring disapprovingly through the darkness.

"What are you doing here, Pearl?" She sounded more disappointed than angry.

"Umm...I forgot a document I'd meant to keep for Rose...I mean, Miss Diamond."

"We are all Miss Diamond here," River said, smiling ghoulishly. "I appreciate your dedication."

A beat.

"What did you hear?"

"What did I...?" Pearl couldn't even think of a plausible lie, so she said nothing, trying to clench her jaw in defiance, even though she trembled and felt like pissing herself.

"I suppose I should have told you...My sister has some friends who do...unsavory work for us. The kind of work...I wish I didn't know about it."

River turned away, looking even sadder than usual. She took a few deep breaths.

"Pearl," she said finally. "You know you can't discuss anything you've heard here, right?"

"Of course." Pearl's voice was barely a whisper.

"However banal it is...or however...Well...We put a lot of trust in our employees. We prefer you don't know about these conversations. But we're not stupid. We know you have ears and eyes and inquiring minds. And that's fine. You can't help being curious. Just...be discreet. Use tact."

Her smile returned, now with a timbre of mockery.

"After all, I'm sure you of all people have learned that by now."

She placed a hand on Pearl's shoulder and vanished down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows like a ghost.

And Pearl stared after her. She didn't bother to listen to the conversation any longer. But she made a beeline to Rose's office, hoping that River wouldn't notice.

She rifled through the desk drawer as quietly as she could. Fortunately, she found the document right where she'd left it, and stuffed it into her purse.

She heard Azuria's voice coming down the hall, and froze. Hid behind the desk.

"...You are not to come back here until this matter is cleared up. I don't care where you go or what you do in the meantime. I don't want to know. Disappear for awhile. We'll need you again in the future. Until then, vanish."

"You're always so quick to use me, and so reluctant to acknowledge my existence."

"That's your job. Living like you don't exist."

"Fair enough, ma'am. Have a good evening."

And the two parted ways. Pearl heard his footsteps down the hall, but not hers. She looked under the desk and saw Azuria hadn't moved.

She froze in place, feeling that she would be less...understanding than her sister.

Finally, she heard a loud, frustrated sigh, then Azuria walking down the hallway.

Pearl waited for several minutes to be careful, her heart pounding in her ears.

Then she carefully took off her shoes, stuffing them into her bag, and ran.

Down the hall, into the lobby.

She thought she heard Blue bidding her good night as she reached the front door. But she didn't stop to make sure.

She kept running until she'd reached the safety of a cafe a block away.

She sat down, catching her breath, before ordering a glass of water from the water. She reached into the bag and pulled out the document she'd grabbed...

"Hey, aren't you Pearl White?"

The familiar phrase interrupted her. Pearl crumpled up the paper and stuffed it back into her bag, fixed her movie star smile in place, and turned towards her fan.


End file.
